


De Vesitmentum

by basically_thearlaich



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano-centric, Ahsoka through the ages, Friendship, Gen, Headcanon, Jedi Culture, maybe relationship, robes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26596384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basically_thearlaich/pseuds/basically_thearlaich
Summary: It’s just something you learn as a Jedi. Dark Green is different from Dark Brown is different from Light Brown is different from Black is different from Dark Blue. Soft Weaves are rare – and there’s a reason for that – and rough weaves are much more often, much more prevalent and easier to get.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 96





	De Vesitmentum

It’s just something you _learn_ as a Jedi. Dark Green is different from Dark Brown is different from Light Brown is different from Black is different from Dark Blue. Soft Weaves are _rare_ – and there’s a reason for that – and rough weaves are much more often, much more prevalent and easier to get.

Even as crèchelings, when they would tour the Temple, they would be shown the shop and Ahsoka remembers the quiet thrum of _focus_ from the benches and tables, where Masters and Knights alike would sit to measure and cut and sew.

She remembers the sunken eyes of a young Knight, back then, when she’d bent, quicker than he could, to retrieve his measuring tape as it slipped through his shaking fingers. It doesn’t occur to her until much later that, if she adds a few inches of hair and eliminates the beard, this _Knight_ could very well have been Master Kenobi.

They are brought up knowing that in order to complete their training as a Padawan, they will be asked to make their own robes. Formal dress mostly, but… for a while also the one thing that will be worn. Considering the oath of a Jedi to abstain from possessions (and, much too often, clothing would be seen as such).

There is _some_ superstition to the selection of the cloth – and the colour – and the weave. Some Masters are said to know, precisely, who you are and what stuff your Force is made of with just one look at you.

Naturally, Master Yoda is counted among these but Ahsoka figures he has an unfair advantage – at nine-hundred-something she thinks she, too, would know what stuff you might be made of with just a deeper look at you. Robes or not.

It can, however, not be denied that many Knights – _and_ Masters – take the opportunity to express themselves as it is given to them. Within a religious order with unifying tenets and not rarely an accusation of blatant culture erasure in favour of a unified front, this should not come as a surprise. And the older Ahsoka gets, the more she thinks she, too, can see where the amalgamating effect of a Jedi-Uniform has made way for individualisation.

A Jedi’s robes consist of three layers. Usually.

The undertunic – _shitagi_ , the overtunic – _uwagi_ , pants and the cloak or robe.

Ahsoka knows only a few Jedi who stick, truly, to these bare minimums, but Obi-Wan is one of them and she knows just what sort of effect the appearance of a man in the more traditional three-piece uniform can have on civilians. Even when they haven’t seen his light-sabre yet, people tend to subconsciously recognize a Jedi long before they have even raised their voice, hand or even weapon.

She wonders, sometimes, what Master Jinn must have looked like for Obi-Wan to go for such traditional dress when he is one of the most unconventional diplomats to have ever graced the galaxy, but she never does have the nerve to ask.

And there’s a rumour about Master Yoda wearing nothing under his own brown robe. But nobody knows how or why. And nobody has ever dared ask. At this point, asking would probably also defeat the point of the mythical bet going around among the younglings and crèchelings up to a certain age about who would attempt to trip their old and venerated Master up to potentially expose him and finally know _for sure_.

They can’t make their boots, obviously. That kind of craft takes years to learn and while, during peacetimes, this might be affordable to some, this cannot be so during times of upheaval. As such, padawans are taught the necessary steps of caring for and mending their foot-work, but are not required to construct it.

But textile can be easy enough to work with and the process is a good exercise in focus and visualization as well as a sort of moving meditation.

They learn the easiest things at first: how to dress.

In the crèche, individualisation is not too big a word, mostly, Ahsoka assumes in hindsight, because the Temple _is_ attempting to get the younglings used to identifying as _Jedi_ rather than an individual of a specific ethnicity away from their home-planet.

They are taught that a _keikogi_ has a certain way of being folded. That the left lapel on the front goes over the right unless the bearer of the cloth is no longer among the living and it is here, already, that they start to notice the difference in _cut_ of the cloth. But it is not until later that they will actually _see_ it.

...

Ahsoka has been a Padawan for maybe three years, before she is caught by Trandoshan Hunters and exiled on a nondescript moon to be hunted for sport. She would rather like to forget the ordeal, but she knows that to heal from it, she _must_ face it and work it through. Which is why, for a while, Temple-life finds her close to both Jinx and O-mer, who reel from the sudden change in surroundings and the loud clatter of _people_ around them who have no intention to harm them whatsoever. Ahsoka herself has not been in their shoes as long as they have but even she finds herself stiffening up at the first unintentional contact of a cold-blooded Plo as he puts his clawed hand to her shoulder.

She doesn’t have the time it needs, she knows, to go through the entire healing process in the Temple. Which is why she takes it upon herself to ask for an appointment with Master Yoda.

If nothing comes from it except for an admonition to meditate on it, then so be it. But she does not think that she can be an example to O-mer and Jinx in regard to allowing their healing process by shying away from even the more painful contacts among her own lineage.

Yoda, as it turns out, is very accommodating. And proud of her. The latter she does not realize until their meditation session is over and he holds her up before she can wobble out of his rooms on unsteady legs.

“Time it is, young padawan, to centre yourself in the world whose path you are walking.”

“Master?”

“That which you sense. That which you feel. Centre you it does.”

“I suppose Master, yes.”

“Then create that which you sense you must.”

_Create that which I sense… that which I feel… But what do I--_

“--The robes, Master?”

“Hm. Still good with your head you are, Padawan. Nice to see some of that now and then in this lineage.”

“ _Master_.”

“Not tell this to your Masters you will, young one.”

“Not that they would believe me, Master Yoda.”

...

Here is the thing.

You can express yourself through your robes, so long as you can craft them yourself. And so long as you may adhere to certain… regulations.

“It’s not so much unlike your armour,” she tries to explain when Rex finds her in their shared office with a hover-cart full of _research_.

The upwards tilt of his right eyebrow tells her exactly what he thinks of that and… Ahsoka can’t fault him exactly.

Not yet anyway. She hasn’t read nearly enough of the source-material Master Nu and Master Sinube had plied her with when she’d come for help.

She knows this much: there are… restrictions. In a way.

For example: There are no reds in the repertoire.

The closest to the colour red is likely Madam Jocasta Nu’s robe – a vivid maroon that tangentially approaches the deep wine red of Yan Dooku’s favourite cape. It hides its true colours in the sometimes sombre lighting of the archives and melds into a deeper brown but Jocasta knows what she is wearing. Knows that just a flick of her fingers will allow her skin to delve into the only sensational delight she allows herself these days. The high thread-count _does_ make a difference. Just as he’s told her.

There aren’t many textiles like the ones she wears. Rather: there are perilously few to be found in the dusty stockrooms of the textile workshop. Jocasta is almost certain that the very roll of her own over-coat is the last of its kind and has, too, let her know that the robe she wears denotes, in particular, her duties to and in the archives.

This, too, is something Ahsoka had not, until now, considered.

The demarcation of a specific duty.

Yes, Medics wear specialised robes but… So do Guardians.

It takes her a while to understand that not all altercations to a set of traditional robes mark a Jedi for a specific _duty_ rather than a specific _ideal_ they wish to carry across.

Like Master Secura’s clothing – picked and designed by the Jedi for exactly the connotation that her kind so often suffered from; a twist on a dress that was often meant to expose poor women to eyes they did not want to see them and turned into a weapon on a fighter who knew all too well what she could do.

Or like Master Fisto’s… more unconventional wear for aquatic fights. She thinks Monnk might have had a stroke when he’d realized that his General was not going to wear _anything else_ but the specialised trunks for the battle of Mon Cala. [Honestly, she can’t fault him for it.]

...

She doesn’t know who of the two in the archives have slipped her the account, but she finds herself sucked up in the almost daring tales of one Jon Antilles – Jedi Knight. And she almost can’t _believe_ that one like him had even ever existed in their Order. But if this _nom-de-plume_ is right, then Jon Antilles was particularly known for a truly ascetic regard towards his robes. _Fay_ described him as usually wearing a black cloak because that is basically all the colour his Master – Dark Woman (they must not have been a fan of Jon’s Master) – had, given her own wardrobe. He has allegedly, in his wanderings, exchanged his under- and over-tunic many times until finding a type of rough-spun cloth that had been aesthetically pleasing enough to him (removed enough from Dark Woman’s choice of clothing) as well as inexpensive enough and widely enough spread so that he would be able to renew any articles of clothing he’d lose in an escape or any other sort of venture.

“Oh he was very real, Ahsoka.”

“You’re kidding.”

Obi-Wan gifts her one of his rare smiles. The secret, small, _pleased_ ones. Tired too but… she’ll focus on the good things right now, thank you.

“I assure you I’m not. And _Master_ Fay was most certainly one of the more believable sources in regards to Antilles.”

“You mean that was actually their name?”

“...Master Fay was _old_ , Ahsoka. Maybe even as old as Yoda.”

“...Did… Did Knight Antilles really _have_ a Master that called themselves _Dark Woman_?”

“...I see your friends at the archives surrendered a very thorough version of his life to you...”

“...”

“ _Dark Woman…_ may or may not still exist. We do not know. Not even among the council. As far as we know, she is still in the Outer Rim, scouring for old and lost knowledge but… It _is_ true that this is what she is called.”

“...But it’s not her name?”

“It is what she is called. If she has ever had a name, I do not know it and… she has given it up, in order to fully serve the tenet of being possession-less.”

“...That’s not normal.”

“While it does defy what we would construe as _norm_ , this does not give us the weight to judge her decision.”

“...You just agreed with me while scolding me, how do you do that.”

“You still have much to learn, padawan.”

“I _believe it_.”

...

It’s not long after that that Obi-Wan gets hurt.

It’s a _stupid_ injury at that and Ahsoka would _yell_ at him if he were actually conscious enough to register her words, but he’s _not_ and she is _busy_ holding the line so that either Kix or Bones can get close enough to bring their might down onto him and their brothers.

She doesn’t _know_ how long she keeps the field clear. Hops the squadrons to hold the line that the 501st and the 212th had established with sweat, blood and tears, but when she is called back to the inner circle to receive a comm, there is Cody, pushing his General down with an arm and covering him from stray blaster-shots even when her Grand-Master tries to argue.

It’s when the field has cleared and Ahsoka sees him still pushing Obi-Wan down that she realizes with a sudden strike of epiphany that Cody’s name is not _Cody_ per se.

“It’s _kote_ isn’t it?” she asks as she turns towards Rex. Her Captain who always accompanies her during round-up and clean-up. The man who, she knows, will have her back until his last breath (she’s not certain if she would want to stick around longer than that either; not in this war for sure).

“Sir?”

“Cody’s name. It’s not… We bungled it up, didn’t we?”

There’s a complicated flit of emotion that crosses her Captain’s face and the Force tingles with yet another soft, certain knowledge. It’s not so much that they bungled it up, rather than the fact that, likely, they had never been offered the truth of the matter. Not entirely. After all, the sounds of the names were just close enough to almost be interchangeable. And some things… Some things belonged to _them_.

Ahsoka understands, if only theoretically most of the time, that they had nothing but the names that they gave themselves. She has seen enough of the war to know that, sometimes, giving away even such a small thing could be asking too much.

“How do you...”

“You say _Kote_ and it means something different to me than it does to you.” Ahsoka answers.

“It does?”

“When you say _Kote_ it is like in _Kote darasuum_ , yes?”

...

He’s uneasy that she would have heard the song. Would know the connotations of it. Even though Prime had taught them, the Kaminoans had not been happy to hear even a hum of it and he cannot imagine that historically well-versed Jedi might be too happy to hear it either.

But this is Ahsoka and… Rex nods, quietly. Quickly. Like telling a secret. (Which he is.)

And, bless her young heart, his Commander understands. Smiles softly and doesn’t dig any further.

“See when I say _kote_ ,” and the way she pronounces it is already so _different_ , “what I mean is… well… _armoured sleeve_ , basically. Like… imagine a gauntlet that stretches from your fingers to your shoulder.”

And Rex smiles something like understanding: “It’s protective gear.”

Ahsoka returns his gesture, bright and wide and exactly in the way that tells him he caught on exactly to what she wanted to tell him.

“Exactly.”

And when Rex looks at General Kenobi, lying still but _mending_ under the protective, heavy arm of his Marshal Commander, he _knows_ how she knew. Cody would like that connotation to his name.

When he finds her in their shared office that evening, signing off on the paperwork that they both know Anakin Skywalker would never touch with a ten-foot-pole attached to his cybernetic arm, he eyes her crate full of pads with a more considering look.

“Why exactly are you studying Jedi robes anyway?”

...

It’s a question that doesn’t have to lead anywhere in particular, but it’s one of the things she has come to appreciate about Rex. Taking their minds off of the war is a good exercise for the both of them. And it never hurts, she has found, to let her Captain learn more about herself as well as the order.

“When we have men fresh from Kamino, you call them _shinies_ , right?”

“Because their armour hasn’t been scratched up yet.”

“Because they haven’t earned the right to paint yet either.”

She’s talked to Tup and Dogma a lot about that – before Umbara. She misses Dogma.

Rex weighs his head carefully on his shoulders, which is as good as a _Yes_ , except he’s not entirely certain how much of their subculture he is allowed to reveal without erasing the lines that the GAR have drawn for them.

Finally, he nods. Decision made. “Yeah. That too,” he agrees. “For all his faults, the Fett taught us a lot about Mandalorian Culture – _gave_ it to us in a way. Songs, language, traditions. Colour on armour… has connotation… And while… most of the time we’re not able to choose what colour we may paint ourselves in, what the Mandalorians do with their choice of colour, we can do with our choice of pattern.”

“So it’s like a story?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugs. “Sometimes it’s just personal preference.”

Ahsoka wants to argue that personal preference, too, tells a story, but she doesn’t. In this she is a novice and if there is a difference for a clone between story and personality then she will have to accept that there is. At least for this one.

“But… your paint helps you individualise. It’s like… A name but stronger?”

A soft snort and a knowing smile. “Yeah. It’s like shouting _Hey, hey, hey, guys, I’m Hardcase_.”

And Ahsoka can imagine Hardcase doing that, but it hurts her a bit to think of the beautiful straight lines of their Lieutenant’s paint – both on his face and on his armour – and she swallows once. Thinks of the shades of blue that the workshop in the temple provides and finds none, from the top of her head, that would coincide with the beautiful wash of 501st blue.

“See… _Robes_ are maybe a bit like colour,” she finally allows. “It means… It means that I’m not just a padawan anymore, but one that has _standing_ now? Like… Ugh… I’m not just a Trooper. I have a name, I have a battalion and I am basically on my way of becoming a Knight.”

The last bit surprises Rex a bit, but he quickly masks it with a few steps and a wide smile. “Congratulations little’un!” he breathes happily, smoothing his hand down her shoulder. A heavy, but gently, caress – one that will not let you question whether or not you felt it.

“But then why’re you studying what amounts to the patterns of other troopers?”

At this, Ahsoka smirks. “Because, Rexter, _I_ will have to make my robes from _scratch_.”

She doesn’t know _what_ about the comment sparks the idea in him, but before she knows it, Rex fiddles for a pad himself and sooner rather than later finds them throwing around ideas for her ceremonial garbs or traditional robes – about the thread-count and the length, about colour and about sewing technique.

...

Ahsoka makes one traditional set of robes for the more ceremonial purposes. Unapologetic when she hands her finished robe over to her Master and her Grand-Master for inspection and they both find the crest of the Jedi Order lined by small, embroidered blocks of orange and blue. Obi-Wan gives her one of his _smiles_ when he hands back the rough cloak and Ahsoka knows that she has done right.

The creation of her ceremonial robes, however, does never quite make it to the point of her regularly wearing them.

“I’m not too fond of thinking you at least as vulnerable as Kenobi,” Rex had confessed in a dark mutter when it had become clear to him that Jedi were _not_ known for actually wearing battle-proof gear.

“I know Jedi have the Force but--”

\--there’s no harm in actually seeking out a professional and having her measurements taken for proper battle-garb. Ahsoka had seen the wisdom of his mutterings.

She never does, however, get to wear the specialised garb that Anakin and Padmé had sponsored for her. By then, the Order had already cast her out and Ahsoka takes a page out of Jon Antilles’ book and follows the will of the Force.

...

She does not make her next battle-garb by herself. Not really.

“You’ll need this,” is all that Bo-Katan says when she pushes a handful of pads towards her and locks her in a workshop that’s worn and warm with usage. The peace of it _aches_ in Ahsoka’s chest and she is not surprised, when she turns on the pads, to find instructions on how to properly dress for battle.

(She’s not even kidding, that’s the title of the first pad’s intel _How to Properly Dress For Battle_. She wonders which of the sisters Kryze had warranted the purchase of such reading and then agrees with herself that it must have been both.)

When Rex finds her again, she has forgone any idea of traditional Jedi dress.

She is not a Jedi. She has not been one for quite a while – even if Yoda had called her Padawan and even if the Force _shines_ , _brightly_ , with the idea of going back to the Temple. To her men. (To Rex.)

“I like the colour,” he says when they stand opposite of each other. And Ahsoka’s breath hitches with the deep rumble that she has _so missed_ these last years. But before she can throw herself into his arms, she cockily snaps a vambrace open to reveal the underside of it.

Blue and Orange blinks up at the blond Captain, neat little squares sitting side-by-side. “Not certain the Temple is gonna like it,” she shoots back. But Rex is already smiling, shaking his head.

“Well _I_ like knowing that I can send you on a battle-field and have you _properly dressed_ for the occasion instead of having to look for your _cloak_ everywhere.”

And it suddenly occurs to her that… Rex is _very close_ with Cody. Who is _always, very worried_ about Obi-Wan. Especially when he finds his Jedi’s cloak somewhere on the battle-field and said Jedi nowhere to be seen.

“You _sneak_ ,” she hisses with a smile, “ _that’s_ why you vetoed the robe!”

She shoves him, without much thought. And stumbles just briefly when his quick reflexes pull her along and under his arm, where he gently pulls her into a head-lock. “I’m a _Captain_ to a _renowned military battalion_. I’m not gonna run the fields with a cloak trailing after me and yelling your name like a clucking nuna.”

“Never stopped the Marshal-Commander,” she bites back, but follows when he starts to walk. Takes, even, the gently disparaging click of lips that the Captain so artfully hides in the corner of his mouth.

“ _Clucking. Nuna,_ ” he repeats and Ahsoka’s laugh doesn’t die until the men proudly show off their helmets and she swallows around the emotion that piles up thickly in her throat.

...

The next time she makes robes, Rex’ hair is white and his face his hidden in a soft, white scruff of a beard.

“Options are limited,” he tells her quietly when he hands her the textile, “but I thought you should be going with _bright_ either way.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](salomewithfeather.tumblr.com) if you'd like to come yell at me or have _questions_ :)


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